Pavement

There were a few times that I caught myself staring at the pavement more than usual today.

The first time occurred when Jordan and I stepped outside of the classroom with the intent of arriving at a logical explanation as to why he was kicked out of music class. I kept fighting my urge to send him straight back, as I realized my precious prep hours had been lost to his bad decision. For a second, I stared at the pavement and watched the tiny sparkles of embedded rock glint in the sun, and I silently prayed for patience as I looked Jordan square in the eye with my best "I mean business" teacher look. His whiny voice began to mutter excuses as he cast the blame for his dismissal on everyone but himself. Apparently, he had told another student to "shut up", and I fought the ironic twist as suppressed myself from saying those very words. When I asked him the natural follow up question as to why he would act in such a way he knew was inappropriate, he clammed up and refused to speak another word. I became calm in the silence, and we just stood there, staring at the pavement together. Strangely, I wasn't irritated and and his goal was not to challenge me. Sometimes, you do need to the world to just shut up.

At the end of the school day I lined my students up at the door for P.E., and was immediately irritated when I realized that the precious pavement and basketball courts were being used by a certain 5th grade teacher.

He's the type of guy who borrows a book report form, adds a final closing statement, and then markets it as his own brilliant work. The worst thing is that he doesn't even realize it is irritating, because he's built his career on that kind of survival. He installed speakers in his classroom, and he relishes in presenting lectures through his cheek mic so he can hear the sound of his voice from every angle of the classroom. The principal says he got it so that his students can hear, but I've heard his voice. He is plenty loud at the lunch table. I also find it odd that everyday for him is "Bring Your Wife to Work Day". I haven't figured out why she comes and hangs out in his portable classroom, listening to him present lessons while secretly living the dream of a motivational speaker. I once tried looking for her electric shock collar, but she caught me staring.

I gave him a fake smile as I lead my students--who had been promised elbow tag on the pavement--to the small strip of cement outside the classroom door. I knew relay races weren't as much fun, but we didn't have enough space to do anything else. Somedays, you just wish you had more pavement to play on.

On my way home from work, I rubbed my nose as I sniffed and sneezed. The sun had finally come, but so had my allergies. People are always shocked when I get started on my sneezing attacks. In high school, I was on choir tour riding in one of those large buses with the bathrooms in the back, and a tickle in my nose resulted in 108 sneezes. I remember the exact number, because everyone on the bus joyfully counted, much to my embarrassment. My greatest fear is that I'll have an attack while teaching or driving, and lose control of both situations. I sped along, focusing on the music and cars around me rather than my watery eyes, and suddenly I noticed the pavement once again. This time, delicate and vibrant poppies caught my attention as they sprang up from the cracks in the pavement on the side of the road. I couldn't help but wonder if in addition to silence and space, a little beauty sometimes makes everything not seem so tragic.